


what comes next

by mixtapestar



Series: a promising vacation [7]
Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Beast (The Magicians), Anal Sex, Developing Relationship, M/M, Top Quentin Coldwater
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:47:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27288901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mixtapestar/pseuds/mixtapestar
Summary: Quentin deals with the morning after partying a bit too hard.
Relationships: Quentin Coldwater/Eliot Waugh
Series: a promising vacation [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1964122
Comments: 9
Kudos: 64
Collections: Comfortween 2020





	what comes next

**Author's Note:**

> For Comfortween Day 30: Candy Overload (comforting someone through some sort of stomach upset).
> 
> Thank you Rubi for beta reading! <3

"Oh, god, why did you let me drink so much?" Quentin says, leaning his head against the cool porcelain of the toilet.

"I'm sorry, Q," Eliot says, rubbing his back. "You kept saying it was our last hurrah together. Plus I'm pretty sure you were sneaking shots of jager when I wasn't looking."

"I was," Quentin admits miserably. "Somebody in undergrad once told me I was cooler on jager, and I guess I got drunk enough to think that was true."

He hears Eliot stifle a laugh. He'd smile too if he didn't feel like he was about to die. Eliot pulls back the strands of his hair that have escaped from his hair tie and gathers it together again. "I've got a spell to help with the hangover, but you've gotta get through this part first."

It's touch-and-go for another fifteen minutes or so, but then Quentin finally feels stable, if a little shaky. Eliot touches his forehead and performs a somewhat complex spell, explaining, "It never works half as well when you do it on yourself as when someone else does. I'll teach it to you later, though. Wouldn't mind having backup in case I need it in the future."

Clarity washes over him as the spell takes effect, his headache clearing, but his mouth still tastes awful.

"No guarantees you won't get sick again, but you should probably drink some water."

Quentin nods. "Can you give me a few minutes? I'm gonna shower, and then brush my teeth like thirty times."

"Of course," Eliot says, pressing a kiss to Quentin's temple before leaving him alone.

Quentin spends five full minutes in the shower leaning his forehead against the wall and letting the water cascade over his back. What an idiot he'd been. He remembers some truly embarrassing antics with coin tricks that left him groping at Eliot to "find" the coin. He can hardly believe Eliot wants to be around him this morning, let alone holding his hair back.

He shudders and forces himself to move properly under the spray. As he starts to feel less gross, washing away the sweat from his body, he admits to himself the real reason he drank so much. He had wanted to be fun Quentin, just once more, before Eliot graduated and went away. He'd thought maybe it would be enough to convince Eliot to stay. Well, that certainly hadn't worked. Eliot probably couldn't wait to jet off to Chicago and start his new job and new life.

Once Quentin feels more or less like a human again, he stumbles downstairs to find Eliot and Margo chatting quietly on the couch. Someone has cleaned up from last night's party; everything looks immaculate as usual.

Margo pats the seat at his approach and stands up. "Saved you a spot, Q. Glad to see you among the living." She presses a kiss to his cheek before sashaying off, too quick for Quentin to even respond.

"Feeling better?" Eliot asks as Quentin stretches out longways on the couch, using Eliot's lap as a pillow. Eliot's hand goes to his hair immediately.

"Physically, yes. Not liking some of the memories that have resurfaced, though."

Eliot laughs lightly. "We're all allowed at least one of those nights, don't worry. I've had my fair share."

"Sure," Quentin grumbles. Eliot's been drunk plenty of times in Quentin's memory, but he's never been _that_ embarrassing. The most Quentin can remember is Eliot failing to levitate this same couch with six people on it, during Quentin's first year. Everyone had seemed so disappointed, Eliot especially, but Quentin always remembered that night because he got to be the one to console him.

"So," Eliot says, breaking his reverie, "I've got a couple pieces of good news. I tried to tell you last night, but you kept changing the subject increasingly obviously until I was pretty sure you were too drunk to hear what I had to say anyway."

"Jesus. I'm sorry, El. What's the news?"

"Well, I found an apartment, in Chicago. Not far from where my office will be, actually."

Oh. No wonder Quentin had tried to change the subject so much. He forces a smile onto his face, trying to be the supportive boyfriend he _should_ be right now. "That's great. You really found somewhere that met all your requirements?"

"Listen, a mini bar in the kitchen is _essential_ , okay? Plus this place has a nook that's perfect for reading by the window, you'll love it."

Quentin's smile feels a little less forced, hearing that. Eliot at least expects him to visit, then. Definitely a good sign. "So what's the second thing?"

Eliot plays with his hair absently. "You know how when I went for my interview, I was saying how far away the portal to Chicago was?"

Quentin laughs. "Yeah, you wouldn't shut up about how you had to take the subway from the Manhattan portal to get there."

"It was in _Astoria_ , Quentin." This does nothing to diminish Quentin's laughter. "Anyway, apparently I wasn't the only one that felt that way. I got permission to create a new portal. Just off campus right into Wrigleyville, two blocks from my office."

Quentin's laughter dies out hard. "W-what? Like, right off _this_ campus?"

"Yes, Q," Eliot says, eyes sparkling. "Like, a ten to fifteen minute walk, tops, from your room to my new apartment."

"Oh… my god?" Quentin says, jolting up to a sitting position, nearly smacking his head against Eliot's chin, but luckily missing. "Are you fucking serious?"

Eliot seems to be feeding off his delight, shifting happily in his seat. "I wouldn't lie about walking distance."

"Holy _shit_ ," Quentin says, pulling his legs up to climb into Eliot's lap and kiss him, kiss him, kiss him until he can't breathe.

"I told you it was good news," Eliot says, equal parts amused and aroused.

"I thought… when you said not to worry about the distance thing, I thought—"

Realization dawns on Eliot, and his face falls. "Oh, Q. _Fuck_ , I didn't—that was my fault."

"Don't worry about it," Quentin says, waving a hand. "All is fucking forgiven. _God_. We can have sex on your _lunch breaks_."

Eliot laughs delightedly. Quentin starts mouthing at his jaw, teeth scraping against skin to make Eliot gasp. "Surprisingly not the first thing I thought of, but yes. Mm, do that again, a little lower."

Quentin obliges, latching on to Eliot's neck until he's squirming. He can feel Eliot getting hard beneath him and it's _wonderful_. He pulls back, suddenly brimming with nerves as he gets an idea. He meets Eliot's gaze tentatively. "Can I fuck you?"

Eliot's mouth drops open. "Can you…?"

"...Fuck you. Yes." Quentin pretends at a bravado he doesn't feel. They've only done it that way once before, on that last, desperate day of Encanto, and while that was great, Quentin had been in no fit state to savor it, take his time with it. He'd been gearing up to ask for it, one last time before Eliot broke things off to move on to his life post-Brakebills. It's still possible, a mean voice says at the back of Quentin's mind, that Eliot will get out there and find that new life, dumping Quentin eventually. But it's not what he's planning, not what Quentin had mistakenly thought over the past week.

"How is that even a question? Of course, fuck." Eliot stands up, taking Quentin with him. Quentin yelps a little, ankles crossing behind Eliot's back, but he realizes part of Eliot's hold on him is magical.

"I mean, you seem to prefer it the other way," Quentin says, remembering what Margo had said to him not that long ago. _He doesn't let just anyone fuck him, you know_. But Quentin's not just anyone, not anymore, which is fucking hot. And he's getting harder by the second, just from the act of being carried up the stairs.

"Well, so do you," Eliot challenges with a laugh. Quentin blushes; he's got a point there. "If I haven't made it clear, though, let me just say: I like it _every_ way with you, Q. If there's ever anything you want to try, _anything_ , just say the word."

Quentin shudders as they push past the door into his bedroom. Eliot reinforces his wards with an expert flick of his wrist, and fuck, that's sexy too. Quentin goes back to kissing him, tongue pushing in and out of his mouth in a deliberate rhythm, and Eliot's magic falters just in time for them to reach the bed.

Quentin hits the mattress with a slight _oof_ , Eliot stumbling over him on his hands and knees. "Sorry," Eliot says sheepishly. "You distracted me."

Quentin laughs. "That's the idea." He pushes at Eliot until he can get at his vest, making short work of the buttons and then starting in on the shirt. "You wear too many goddamn layers."

Eliot laughs, delaying Quentin's work on his shirt by lifting Quentin's shirt up over his head. "Sorry I didn't dress this morning with the idea of you fucking me today. Hopefully I'll do better, next time."

"Good." Hard to believe that Quentin started out the day—not that long ago—sick, hungover, and nearly sure that Eliot was days away from breaking up with him.

Once they get rid of the last of their clothes, Quentin tossing a sock blindly across the room, they switch positions. Eliot goes where Quentin guides him, shoulders against the pillows and his body stretched out across the mattress.

"Sure you don't want to do me doggy style?" Eliot asks as Quentin moves between his legs. "It can feel really good, to grab on and really let go."

The thought heats Quentin up from the inside, picturing a role reversal from the last time Eliot fucked him like that, but, "Not this time. I want to see you today." He grabs an extra pillow and nudges Eliot's legs further apart, sliding the pillow under his ass when he lifts his hips.

He moves his fingers in the familiar gestures of the cleaning spell, knowing well the slight discomfort that's making Eliot squirm as a result. He starts to continue on to the lube spell, but stops himself. "You said, if I wanted to try anything…" 

Eliot raises his eyebrows. "What do you have in mind?"

"Maybe you can… help me with this part." He swipes his thumb, still dry, over the rim of Eliot's hole.

Eliot stares back at him, pupils blown. "You want me to finger myself open for you?"

Quentin bites his lip and nods. "I was thinking one of your fingers, then one of mine, then another of yours." Eliot's moan tells him that he likes that idea. "I love the way your fingers feel inside me, but I never get to see them. This is kind of a 'best of both worlds' situation."

"You could, you know. See my fingers slipping inside you. We could do that bodyswap spell again."

 _Fuck_. "Add it to the list," Quentin says, palming at his cock to relieve a modicum of tension. "We'll have to choose something to christen your new apartment. Now, stop fucking distracting me."

"Yes, sir," Eliot says, and Quentin's cock twitches even if Eliot's tone is sarcastic. He leans forward to retrieve the good lube from his bedside table, offering some first to Eliot and then slicking his own fingers. He takes Eliot's cock in hand, giving it a few strokes while Eliot gets comfortable on the pillows and reaches down to press his middle finger against his hole.

"That's it," Quentin says, shifting a little to get a better look. "Show me how you do it when I'm not here."

Eliot rocks his hips a little, rubbing his finger over his perineum and back to his hole, teasing. "I usually vary my position, but for the sake of today's studio audience, I'll do it like this."

"Thank you for indulging me," Quentin says, deadpan. The cheeky grin on Eliot's face transforms into a slack-jawed look of pleasure as he presses inside, and Quentin rewards him by taking his cock more firmly in hand, twisting under the head on the upstroke.

Eliot moans as he starts to slide his finger in and out, and before Quentin can register it, he's adding a second finger. "Hey, that was supposed to be my turn."

"Sorry," Eliot says, not looking sorry at all as he gasps and pushes back on his fingers. "You said to do it like I do it alone. I'm pretty quick to go to two."

Quentin can hardly blame him, when he's the same way. The stretch is just right, with two, when he's looking to jerk himself off fast. Still, "You're not alone, though, so don't get too carried away."

"Don't worry, it's all for you, baby." Eliot is definitely enjoying himself, putting on a show like this. And Quentin is suitably fascinated, watching Eliot fuck himself on two fingers. Eventually, looking a little desperate, Eliot gazes at him through lidded eyes and says, "Need more. C'mon, Q, help me get ready for you."

Quentin adds a little more lube to his finger before sliding it into the welcoming heat of Eliot. Eliot's fingers join his a moment later, Eliot hissing as he accommodates the stretch. He can see Eliot forcing himself to relax, and it’s obvious when he's good for them to move. Movement is a little awkward, with their hands at different angles, but Quentin doesn't intend to stay at this stage for long. His cock is aching with need to be inside Eliot.

"Please Q," Eliot says before long. "I wanna feel you."

Quentin scrambles for the condom, rolling it on without finesse before slicking himself up.

Fucking Eliot is nothing short of a religious experience. Quentin is pretty sure he sends prayers up to several gods to help him survive the sensation of Eliot clenching down on him once he's inside to the root. And then moving— _fuck_ —it's hard not to get overwhelmed at the velvety slide of his dick inside Eliot. Especially when he settles his weight more firmly on his hands, Eliot staring up at him and moving with him. Quentin whines and closes those scant few inches between them, licking into Eliot's mouth, hot and heavy, in time with his thrusts.

Eliot responds enthusiastically to everything he does, in body and sound. Quentin can sometimes feel the slide of Eliot knuckles against his belly as he fists his own cock, slowly at first, but with increasing desperation.

Quentin pulls out of their kiss to breathe, slowing his rhythm as he feels like he might explode at any moment. Eliot cups the back of his head, gripping his hair desperately, breathing hard and saying, "It's so good, baby, please don't stop."

"I'm gonna come," Quentin warns him, knowing if he lets himself fall back into that desperate rhythm, he's a goner.

"Me too, _please_ , I want it." Hearing Eliot's voice so needy is doing nothing to help his situation, but with Eliot's plea, he gives in to it and speeds up again.

He feels his orgasm building already at the base of his spine as he works his hips frantically, the grip against his cock so good. And Eliot is right there with him, just as he said, moaning wantonly and urging him on.

"That's it, Q— _Q_ , oh fuck," Eliot grunts out, and—

"Oh god, El, oh _god_ — _fuck_ —" and he buries himself inside Eliot, deep as he can go, filling the condom while Eliot comes between their chests. They fall into a kiss, Quentin's cock still pulsing inside Eliot while their tongues slide lazily against each other.

A few shaky minutes later, after they've made an effort to get cleaned up, Eliot curls up to Quentin's side. "So. Think we can fit something like that into my lunch break?"

Quentin barks out a laugh, wondering if this is what love feels like.

**Author's Note:**

> And here we end (at least for now) the No Beast AU sub-series of Comfortween. Hope you enjoyed! Your comments are still very much appreciated!


End file.
